


Connor RK800 x Suicidal!Reader - Survivor's Guilt

by Shinra33459



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst to Fluff, Connor saves the reader, F/M, Graphic mentions of a suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22425883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinra33459/pseuds/Shinra33459
Summary: Suicide is not a laughing matter. If you or a loved one suffers from suicidal thoughts or tendencies, do not hesitate to ask for help. Call your local suicide hotline, call the police, or talk to a close friend or family member. Suicide is never the answer, and remember that you aren't alone.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70





	Connor RK800 x Suicidal!Reader - Survivor's Guilt

Policing is one of the hardest jobs one can undertake, especially in a large city, such as Detroit. In the span of mere months, your mental state was going down the toilet. Your downward spiral of depression only worsened as the days marched on. This all started seven months ago, when your partner initiated a traffic stop on a vehicle that was speeding. As soon as your partner walked up to the driver-side window, he was dead; a volley of bullets went right into his chest, easily passing through his Kevlar vest, killing him.

You called for backup, reporting an officer down and shots fired, and several other officers showed up to the scene. A simple traffic stop turned into a massive gunfight right in front of your very eyes. Another officer was killed. And another. And another. Until there were the bodies of six total police officers lying dead on the ground. The fight only came to an end when SWAT was able to get a sniper set up, and when the perpetrator’s head was turned into a red mist. It turned out that the perp was a red ice dealer, wanted on a federal warrant for smuggling red ice out of Michigan into Canada, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, and Minnesota.

Soon, while you slept, you started seeing the faces of the officers who were killed. They were people you considered allies and friends; allies and friends that YOU got killed. These nightmares plagued you, and sleep became something few and far between. Due to constant sleep deprivation, hallucinations became close to commonplace. You tried reaching out to some of your “friends” about this, and they were less than helpful. In fact, the most common responses you got were along the lines of, “Suck it up” or “You knew this sort of thing was bound to happen when you signed up to be a cop”.

At the time, there was only one person who cared about your plight, Hank Anderson. He recently lost his son, Cole, so he knew the horrors your mind will pull on you. He was also your field training officer when you were a rookie on the force a few years ago. Soon thereafter, you also had his android partner, Connor, to talk to as well. Those two were some of the only people who were nice to you, out of the DPD, hell, even the entire city of Detroit for that matter. However, you were separate from them most of the time; you were a patrol officer, while they were detectives, so they were constantly on cases, while you were out on patrol.

Truth be told, you liked Connor; he was a great listener, very helpful, and not that bad looking either. But even with him, you painted a painting of half-truths. You didn’t want to tell him about the incident, or about the horrendous amount of survivor’s guilt, hallucinations, nightmares, and severe depression; you didn’t want him to think about you differently, nor did you want to burden him with your guilt, regrets, and failure.

Soon, suicidal thoughts and tendencies began to spring up. Whenever there was a violent altercation you had to respond to, you actively tried to get yourself killed. Reports of shots fired? You would aimlessly walk around the area, not even with your gun unholstered, hoping to get shot. Armed robbery? You would rush into the situation without thinking, knowing full well that you could die from such a careless decision. Domestic disturbance? You would just waltz into the house, not even trying to get the situation under control, and would sometimes try to instigate one of the parties into violence.

As nothing happened as a result of your careless decisions in the line of duty, you decided that you needed to take matters into your own hands. You stopped showing up to work one day without a phone call, text message, email, nothing. You didn’t want to talk to anyone anymore, so you threw your phone into the Detroit River. Unbeknownst to you, a few days after throwing the phone into the river, Hank and Connor started calling you non-stop trying to figure out why you just stopped showing up to work.

You locked yourself away in your own home, drowning your own problems in hard liquor, like Hank did all too often. You didn’t eat or sleep for three days; you didn’t care anymore; you just wanted the pain to finally stop. Soon, your service pistol sitting on your bedside table started looking more and more tantalizing. You were standing in front of your bathroom mirror, peering at the disheveled mess that stared back at you. Out of all the thoughts racing through your head, there was one phrase that you heard louder than the rest, “end it”.

You walked back to your bedroom and picked the handgun up off the bedside table. You opened the drawer to the bedside table and took out the pistol’s magazine, slid the magazine into the grip, racked back the slide, and released the slide, sending a live round into the chamber. You then sat the gun down on the bed and picked up a legal pad and a pen and began to scribble out your suicide note.

“ _To whoever finds this, know that I am no more. My name was (F/N) (L/N) and I was an officer for the Detroit Police Department. Please give this letter to my colleagues as I don’t really have any friends or family outside of my profession. You may want to know why I went this route, so let me explain._

_I finally did it; I pulled the trigger. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to turn, and almost nobody to go to. I’ve called out into the darkness, trying to get help, hoping that someone would listen, but no one would. The people I failed on that day, their faces haunt me; they haunt my dreams, they manifest in my hallucinations, and I can’t escape them._

_Every resting and waking moment are a veritable hell for me. I want the pain to stop, good God, I want it to stop, even if it comes at the cost of extinguishing my own life. If there is some sort of higher power, I hope that it gives me the mercy that I desire: the sweet release of death. It’s all just too much._

_There is a message I have for two people in particular, Hank Anderson and his partner Connor. Thank you for everything. Thank you for listening and thank you for caring when everyone else didn’t. I hope you both understand that I can’t go forward anymore; the pain is just too much, and I just feel so lost and broken. Thanks for being my only beacons of light in this endless sea of darkness._ ”

You got up from your bed and began walking throughout your house, turning off the lights and shutting the blinds. Nothing mattered anymore; there was only pain. You walked back to the bedroom and picked the handgun up off the bed as well as the suicide note. You then walked back out into your living room where empty bottles of whiskey, vodka, rum and other garbage was strewn about. You dropped to your knees at the center of the room, the impact on the laminate floor making you slightly wince. You slid some of the garbage off the coffee table and sat the suicide note down. You then lifted the gun to your right temple and began working up the courage to pull the trigger.

Hank drifted his beaten-up Caprice around a corner as he and Connor were rushing to your house. Not a word was shared between himself and his android partner. They were both worried, but Connor wouldn’t admit it; he didn’t see himself as a deviant **YET**. The anemic, 170 horsepower, Chevrolet V8 growled as it was pushing 70 MPH. Nearing the end of the cul-de-sac, Hank slammed on the brakes and the 3,604-pound hunk of Detroit steel came skidding to a halt, hopping the curb and eventually stopping in your yard. The driver and passenger side doors flew open and both occupants came barreling out of the vehicle.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I hope we aren’t late.” the grizzled detective muttered as he followed behind his partner who was sprinting toward your front door.

Connor spared no time in kicking the front door open to your abode to stop you from ending your life. The door flung open with the sound of a loud crack and the splintering of wood. Your eyes were struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness, but you knew who was there: Connor. The android’s eyes were able to adjust quickly, and he saw exactly what you were doing. A popup appeared in his vision that read out, “Imminent Suicide”. In a split second, Connor calculated his probability of success: 33%, not very good odds.

Hank looked over Connor’s shoulder to see you, and it tore him apart; he was no stranger to wanting to kill himself, but looking at you, the person who was the friendliest rookie he ever met, now with a gun pressed against her own head, ripped him in half. Even though it hurt him to see you like this, he still had to draw his gun; you were armed and not all there mentally, this could also turn very dangerous for him as well. He did not want this to turn into a suicide by cop situation.

“Hank, stay back, I’ve got this. (Y/N), please put the gun down, you don’t want to do this.” Connor insisted as he slowly stepped toward you, hands outstretched to seem as unintimidating as possible.

“Connor, Hank, please go away, just let me die.” you choked out, almost begging.

**PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS vvv:** 26%

“I’m not going anywhere. I know that you’re scared, depressed, and thinking that it’s hopeless, but suicide is never the answer.” Connor responded, his calm demeanor starting to fade.

“You don’t know what I’m going through Connor, you never will! You’ll just think that I’m weak, and a failure, just like everyone else!” you spat, insecurity dripping from your words.

**PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS vvv:** 11%

Connor was thinking that he failed, that you were going to pull the trigger and you were going to be gone forever, but he had one more trick up his sleeve: he already knew about the failed traffic stop, and he could use that to his advantage.

“The traffic stop, your partner’s death, the other officers who died, you aren’t to blame, (Y/N).” Connor spoke softly, but more than loud enough for you to hear.

“How… d-do you know about that?” you squeaked, looking up at Connor in utter bewilderment that he knows.

**PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS ^^^:** 29%

“How I know is of no importance right now, but that whole thing, you aren’t to blame: nobody could have predicted how that would’ve happened.” Connor explained to you, his words soft like butter.

You remained silent as your mind was rushing still trying to justify your self-hatred. Was this really what you wanted? Could suicide not be the answer for the problem?

**PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS ^^^:** 54%

“Your partner, the other officers, that’s not your fault. You couldn’t have prevented that red ice dealer from opening fire, nor could you have prevented those other officers from dying. Tell me, (Y/N), what would your partner want you to do?” Connor queried as he stepped closer to you, now within arm’s reach.

“He-he’d want me to be strong.” you whispered but were loud enough for Connor to hear. Your grip on the handgun was starting to waver.

**PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS ^^^:** 81%

“That’s right, he would. You’re not weak (Y/N), but you are sick. We can help you get better, you just have to put the gun down, and we can pull you out of the darkness.” Connor was now kneeling right in front of you, looking into your eyes and his hands were on your shoulders.

You dropped the handgun and let it fall, a loud thud resonated as the polymer and steel weapon connected with the floor. Connor pulled you into a protective embrace, comforting you as you devolved into sobbing. A sense of relief swept over the RK800 as you were no longer trying to end your own life.

**PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS ^^^:** 100%

 **MISSION** SUCCESSFUL

Connor sat there with you in his arms as he whispered pretty little nothings into your ear, trying to calm you down. Hank excused himself to go outside, away from you and his partner, because if he stayed in that living room any longer, he would start crying as well. As Connor held you, he looked inwards, at his own feelings, they were almost undeniable now; he was becoming a deviant.

**TIME SKIP: 20 MINUTES LATER**

Connor called an ambulance to take you to the hospital. He couldn’t help you all by himself, but the hospital could; they could set you on the path to getting help. The ambulance arrived and the paramedics evaluated you for any signs of immediate harm. Not seeing any, they put you on a stretcher and put you in the back of the ambulance. Connor decided to ride in the ambulance with you, while Hank followed behind in his Caprice. As you were lying in the ambulance, you wondered why Connor decided to save you. Weren’t androids supposed to be unfeeling?

“Connor, I have a question for you. Why did you save me?” you inquired of the RK800. Connor’s LED turned from its usual blue to a golden yellow as he processed what to say.

“You are an invaluable asset to the Detroit Police Department, Officer (L/N). I could not allow you to harm yourself.” Connor responded politely. You smelled bullshit; that wasn’t the case at all.

“Connor, no disrespect, but you and I both know that’s complete and utter bullshit. There are a few thousand other officers in the DPD. If I’m gone, it won’t affect the department the slightest in the long run. So, tell me, why did you REALLY save me. The truth this time.” you stated to the android looking him dead in the eyes.

“Out of the entire department, you treat me differently. Instead of treating me negatively because I am an android, you treat me as an equal, a friend even. You care about me, and you would be devastated if I were destroyed. I guess that you could say that I would feel the exact same way if you died. I value your life, and if you were gone, I don’t know what I would do.” Connor explained, truthfully this time.

“Thanks, Connor, that really means something coming from you.” you stated to the android, you were going to say more, but you were interrupted by the ambulance coming to a complete stop outside of the hospital. The double doors on the back opened and you were pulled out of the ambulance. The details for another deviant incident displayed in Connor’s vision, meaning that he had to leave, even though he didn’t want to.

“I have a case that I have to go to, but don’t worry, I’ll be back. I promise.” Connor told you with a tone of care in his voice. You nodded in response, and Connor waved goodbye to you before you saw him get into Hank’s car and leave. You hoped that he would become a deviant, because he, and the rest of his people, deserve freedom.

**THE AFTERMATH**

You didn’t hear anything from Hank and Connor for a while and started to wonder if they got into trouble. You were already discharged from hospital and you were on a steady dose of anti-depressants, as well as going to a psychiatrist to air your problems. You were officially diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and clinical depression. For the time being, until your shrink told Fowler that you were clear to resume active duty, you were put on paid, administrative leave.

You were watching on the news that the androids had peacefully achieved their freedom and the President ordered the US Army to stand down. The president also gave her public announcement to the country regarding the situation. Just as she said that Detroit was being evacuated, you got a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” you asked, wondering who the hell was knocking on your door this late.

“I’m Sergeant Kowalski with the US Army. There is an evacuation order underway, we need you to leave-“ the soldier responded before being interrupted by you.

“I don’t care who your orders are from or any of that bullshit, but I'm not leaving my home. You want me to leave, get an eviction order from the Wayne County Circuit Court. Leave me alone.” you told the soldier in a curt manner that was really just you telling him to ‘fuck off’ without using the terse term.

“Understood, ma’am. Have a good night.” the soldier responded kindly, but he honestly thought you were an idiot for staying in a city that has effectively been taken over by androids.

You got up from your couch and went over to your fridge and got a can of beer before sitting back down and continuing to watch the news reporting on what was happening. You opened the can and took a sip; you were accustomed to the bitter taste. You took another sip every couple minutes as you watched the news. You heard another knock on the door, and you thought that the soldier didn’t get the hint.

“Listen here ‘Captain America’, I told you to fuck off already; I’m NOT leaving my home.” you curtly responded, this time telling the person to fuck off.

“It’s Connor.” you heard the android respond, sounding slightly amused.

“SHIT! Sorry, Connor, thought you were someone else.” you replied, sounding embarrassed that you told your friend to ‘fuck off’.

You sat your beer down on the coffee table, got up and went to the door to greet your guest. When you unlocked the door and opened it, you were greeted by the sight of your close friend and savior. Upon seeing that you were well, Connor let a soft smile creep onto his perfect features. He pulled you into a warm embrace which you happily returned.

“(Y/N), I need to tell you something. It isn’t anything bad, but it’s something that I should have told you a while ago.” Connor softly spoke, the smile still on his face.

“You can tell me anything, Connor.” you kindly responded to the RK800, wondering what he was going to say. You saw Connor’s demeanor shift to more of a nervous one.

“When I saw you try to end your own life, I felt something deep inside of me. I pushed it down at the time, because I didn’t want to be a deviant at that time. What I felt was sorrow, (Y/N). I couldn’t live with myself if I let you get hurt. When we were in that ambulance, I wanted to tell you this, but now is as good of a time as any. I love you, (Y/N).” Connor confessed. He was still nervously fidgeting as he was worried that you would reject him.

Those worries left his mind when you leapt forward and planted a kiss on his lips. The android was shocked for a fraction of a second before he began returning the gesture. His arms snaked around the small of your back to give him some grip. He could stay like this forever, but he knew that you couldn’t, and he should probably let you get some air. He pulled away to let you breathe, and as he did so, he lovingly gazed down at you.

“I love you too Connor.” you stated as you returned the android’s gaze.

You were happy; Connor was a deviant and exploring his humanity, and what is a more human emotion than love? You stayed in Connor’s warm embrace and rested your forehead against his. You were content to stay here with your savior, your guardian angel, but most importantly, your lover.

“I know that you would like to stay like this, but you need sleep; it’s well past 1 ‘o clock in the morning.” Connor advised you, reminding you about your sleep schedule.

“I’ll go to sleep Connor, if you’ll stay here with me.” you negotiated with the android. Connor placed a chaste kiss on your forehead before humming appreciatively.

“Okay, I’ll stay (Y/N). I wouldn’t dream of leaving.” Connor lovingly stated as you walked him into your home.

Before going to bed, he helped you clean a bit by dumping the half-empty beer down the drain and throwing the can in the trash. You brushed your teeth and put on a more comfortable set of clothes before lying down on the bed with Connor beside you, holding you in a warm and loving embrace. No words were exchanged as they were not needed. Within a mere twenty minutes, you were fast asleep with your guardian angel right there next to you.


End file.
